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“It comes to some of us at about sixteen he said, maybe a bit earlier, maybe a bit later. You don’t want to wait until you’re sixty to start being nice to people. He said, if you’re not there yet, young Conning, I just want to suggest a direction that you might choose to follow!”
“That’s some lecture!” says Kayt.
“Not really a lecture,” says Conning, “but perhaps it is. It’s a thought provoking story! Grandad said it’s his favourite story, passed down through the generations.”
Thankful that she managed to convey absolutely everything without too much hesitation, Conning sits down and the tears finally start to roll. She takes a handkerchief from her handbag, and starts dabbing her face. KristalClear and Kayt both dash forward to put their arms around her.
There’s gentle sobbing for a minute or two, and continued silence for another minute or two as the girls, individually, have dozens of thoughts running through their heads all vying for attention, all at the same time, in a haphazard jumble of conflicting priorities.
And nobody wants to be the first to speak.
Their mental capacity can barely cope.
What does Conning want? What does a good apple look like? Isn’t appearance important? Who is she thinking about?
Grandad? Some boy at school? Some girl at school? An older man in Lancaster? Somebody back home on Mannin?
It couldn’t be KristalClear could it? Or NutJob? Or the imaginary, ideal man for CandiCrush?
And, why? Why is all this thinking so stressful?
Conning is the first to speak.
Regaining her composure, she lifts her head, and tries to smile at her friends. Her long, medium ash brown hair is a bit of a tangled mess and her cheeks are flushed and rosy. She calmly closes with three more remarks, delivered in a resolute, determined, strong voice, as if to mimic the style of her grandfather.
“Where can people find responsible, compassionate, and understanding men?”
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